


Locked Out

by beckzorz (heckofabecca)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Mentions of wanting to jump Bucky Barnes' bones, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Sharon Carter has a snarky side and you can pry it from my cold dead hands, background Steve Rogers/Sharon Carter - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2019-10-31 06:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17844521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckofabecca/pseuds/beckzorz
Summary: You lock your keys in the car, and your ice cream is going to melt. Who can you call but Bucky?





	1. Locked Out

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: ‘I locked the keys in the car’ + ‘you’re satan’ with anyone you want ❤
> 
> Thanks for reading!

“—and he’s always so damn buried in reading up on what happened that he keeps missing what’s going on now. I mean, he barely even knows who Beyoncé is.” You sigh and adjust your bag of groceries. “I did get him to finally listen to Lemonade, at least. But that’s about it,” you finish. You switch your phone to the other side and hold it to your ear with your shoulder as you dig in your pockets for your keys.

“So he still hasn’t gotten the memo?” Sharon asks.

“What memo?”

“That you want to jump his bones, silly.”

“Oh my god, Sharon, shut up!” You can’t help but laugh, despite the fact that you still haven’t found your keys. You bend to put down your grocery bag, but a reflection from inside your car gives you pause. “Oh shit. I locked the keys in the car.”

Sharon is quiet for a moment. “Where are you?”

“A couple blocks from my apartment. Why?”

“Your neighborhood isn’t exactly in the top ten best places to raise a kid in New York,” she says. “And it’s almost eleven.”

“Calm down, Sharon.” You roll your eyes and tighten your scarf around your neck. “The real problem is that it’s only thirty-four degrees out, and I bought ice cream. Let me think for a second.” You set your bag of groceries down and drum your mittened fingers on the roof of your car. The side street is quiet, with no one else in sight. A light breeze sends a dry leaf dancing along the grimy sidewalk.

“You know,” Sharon says, casually, “Bucky lives only like ten blocks away.”

“I know _that_ ,” you snap. You kick at the tire, annoyed. You’re well aware that Bucky lives closeby. More than that, you know he’s home. He’d messaged you earlier, asking for a restaurant recommendation. But you’re colleagues, not friends. Just because his best friend is dating Sharon doesn’t mean you’re ready to call him in the middle of the night.

Even if you’re well aware he won’t be sleeping.

“You can’t just stand outside forever,” Sharon says. “Besides, he can break into your car for you.”

“Fuck. I really regret not taking that crash course last month…”

“Just call Bucky,” Sharon says, laughing. “Anyway, Steve’s giving me the eye; I’m gonna go. Bye!”

She hangs up. You groan, and then you notice the trio of bulky strangers headed your way.

Oh, to hell with it. You pull up Bucky’s number, bite your lip, and press call. As you wait for him to pick up—do you even want him to pick up? You’re not sure—you shift your weight back and forth, trying to keep your blood flowing and your knees from shaking.

Sharon’s not _wrong_ exactly, but ‘want to jump his bones’ doesn’t cover the depths of how you think about Bucky Barnes. Yes, he’s gorgeous, with perfect lips and eyes and hair and body, but he’s also whip-smart and clever, funny when he needs to be, and above all that _kind_. Even when you were essentially strangers, he’d offered to help carry a box, decipher a puzzling code, surprise Sharon on her birthday. And he’d gotten you a birthday gift last year too.

Bucky picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?” His voice is low, confused.

“Bucky!” You quickly cough to conceal your delight at the sound of his voice. “Sorry to call so late, but… I locked my keys in my car. I totally get if you’re busy, but—”

“Where are you?”

“Around the corner from my place.”

“Be there in five.”

_Click._

You gape at your phone. Five? Five _minutes?_ Impossible. You set a timer and settle in to wait.

Nope—with three seconds left, Bucky skids to a stop in front of you. You’ve never seen someone look better in just a hoodie and jeans, but that’s Bucky for you.

“Hey,” he says. “I—”

Your phone beeps.

“Oh shit, sorry,” you say, blushing as you turn off your timer. “I was timing—well, nevermind. Thank you so much for coming, Bucky. I, um…”

“What, didn’t think I could make it in time?” He slants a grin your way as he peers inside your car, spotting your keys in a flash. “Huh.” He tries the car door handle. “Well, they are in fact locked in.”

You stare at him. “I told you that.”

“Well, you should call a locksmith in the morning.”

“ _What?_ ” The wind picks up; you shiver and stuff your hands under your armpits. “I thought you were going to help me break into my car!”

“I mean, I _could_ , but then the security system would be shot to hell.” He scratches the back of his head. “Besides, it’s practically freezing, and that takes time. I came to walk you back to my place. You, um, you can crash with me.”

Back to his place? You’ve never been…

Bucky’s watching you closely. There’s some pink in his cheeks that wasn’t there before.

To hell with it.

“Alright, then.” You grab your groceries, but before you can sling them over your shoulder Bucky pulls them out of your hands. “Hey!”

He sneaks a peek in your reusable bag as he hefts it over his own shoulder. “What, you think I was gonna let you carry this? What am I, a monster?” His smirk has a touch of sadness to it.

Unacceptable.

“No, you’re Satan,” you say sarcastically. “How dare you come down here, rescue me from myself, and carry my groceries? And what will the world say when I tell them I’m going to share my ice cream with you after all that?”

Bucky chuckles and bumps his shoulder against yours—lightly, thank goodness. “What flavor did you get?”

“It’s a surprise.” You smile at the sidewalk as you walk beside him, light dimming and brightening as you pass under street lamps. The quiet that falls between you is natural, not awkward like all the stony silences you’ve experienced in your years. The few times you’re bold enough to glance at Bucky, he catches on almost too quick for you to look away.

If he does catch you looking, he doesn’t mention it.

When you finally reach his apartment building, he lets you go in first. As you wait for the elevator to reach the top floor, you smile shyly his way. He smiles back, eyes crinkling. The elevator dings; the doors open.

“Thank you, Bucky. I appreciate all of this.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

He holds the elevator open, but you’re frozen in place.

“Sweetheart?” you breathe.

Bucky’s face floods with color, and his eyes are anywhere but on you. “Uh—”

You rush at him, grab his face, and pull his mouth to yours. The groceries clatter to the floor. Bucky’s lips are soft; the hands suddenly gripping your waist are large and solid. A surge of desire shoots through you as he pulls you flush against him.

Then the elevator shuts with a ding.

You pull back in surprise, eyes popping open as you realize just what you’ve done. Bucky hasn’t moved; his eyes are still closed. Is he mad? Glad? Your heart hammers in your chest.

Bucky’s eyes open slowly. He bites his lower lip, his gaze flitting between your eyes and mouth. Tentatively, you smile.

“Hey,” he murmurs.

Your smile deepens, and you take his outstretched hand. “Hi.”

The elevator starts to go down. You lean against Bucky and laugh; he presses the button for his floor again, but the elevator is already on its course. Oh well. You wind your arms around Bucky’s waist and breathe him in. His back is more sculpted than Michelangelo’s David. You can’t wait to get your hands on the rest of him.

… Okay, so maybe you do want to jump his bones. Your cheeks flare with heat.

“What?” Bucky asks, voice low and eyes sparkling.

“To quote Sharon, I want to jump your bones,” you tell him.

“Well,” Bucky says. He licks his lips and lowers his mouth to beside your ear as the elevator stops back at the ground floor. His voice is low and delicious and just for you. “That can be arranged.”

There’s no one waiting to get on at the lobby. When the doors close again and the elevator starts to ascend, you let Bucky take you straight up to heaven.


	2. Locked Out, Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You lock your keys in the basement after throwing your soda-soaked dress in the wash. Who can you call but Bucky?

“Wanna come to the laundry with me?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and settles back on the couch. “No. And you wouldn’t have to keep going out to the basement if you just did your stuff at my place.”

“Well,” you say, hoisting your laundry basket higher on your hip, “that would involve lugging my laundry ten blocks.”

“You know you have a car, right?”

You stick your tongue out at him as you pull the door shut. Of course you remember your car. It was the car that finally got you together.

You worry your lip as you head downstairs. Bucky’s often offered his machine, but aside from a few, ahem, emergencies on nights you stayed over, you have yet to take him up on it.

Yes, you have a car; yes, the machine in Bucky’s apartment is free. But you haven’t given in.

Not yet.

You’ve done your own laundry since you were a kid. Doing it at Bucky’s place… It would be a level of intimacy you haven’t yet reached. It’s only been a couple of months since you’d started dating, and there’s a depth to your relationship you’ve never experienced before.

Frankly?

It’s _terrifying_.

Bucky is amazing: gorgeous, kind, smart, and with a wicked streak that’s driven you mad in half a dozen ways, most of them good. _Very_ good. But you know full well that the honeymoon phase doesn’t last.

And god, you are so fucking scared of losing him.

You push open the door to the back of the building and walk straight into your neighbor Shawn.

Who’s holding a cup of soda.

You yank your hamper aside, but it’s too late; her McDonald’s cup is crushed, splashing a wave of black soda over both of your clothes.

“Oh shit!”

“Fuck!”

You’re both frozen for a moment, then you can’t help but laugh.

“Oh man, I’m so sorry,” you tell him.

“Eh, it’s alright,” Shawn says. “Tomorrow’s laundry day. It’ll keep til then.” He eyes your basket, which has escaped the tide. “You’ve got good timing, at least.”

“Apparently,” you say.

Shawn goes in, and you head to unlock the basement door. You take the narrow stairs carefully. There’s an empty washing machine, thank goodness, and you stuff your clothes in along with detergent and an obscene number of quarters.

You pluck at your wet dress. It’s covered, that’s for sure.

After a moment of thought, you pull your phone and keys from your dress pockets and set them on top of the machine. You’re wearing a slip, and for the two steps in the back of the building you should be fine. Any neighbors can handle a little satin and lace, right?

Sure. Right.

You yank your dress over your head and stuff it in with the rest of your dirty clothes. Your slip is clean still, or at least it’s not awash in coke.

Once the machine is going, you grab your phone, set a timer, and run back upstairs and outside.

No one is there. You relax a tiny bit; it’s one thing to run into people in the apartment building while only in boots and a slip, quite another outside in March. You shiver and reach for your keys.

Your keys.

Your keys?!

“Fuck fuck fuck!

You yank at the back door, eyes smarting. Are you serious? You scurry back to the basement door, but that’s locked too. You turn in place, panic seizing you by the throat.

The sounds of the street pound in your ears. You’re alone, shivering, locked out; you wrap your arms around yourself—

Oh.

Right.

Phone.

Bucky. You can call Bucky.

Your shoulders lighten as you wait for him to pick up. The details may be different, but this is just what happened the night you got together. The first night he called you sweetheart.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Bucky!” You're grinning now. “You’ll never guess what happened.”

There’s a pause, but then Bucky starts to laugh.

“You locked yourself out _again?_ ” He tsks, but you can still feel his laughter. “What _am_ I gonna do with you?”

You giggle, barely bothered by the cold now that you’ve got Bucky’s voice in your ear. “We’ll have to find out, I guess.”

“Well, I’m coming down now. Stay on the line, wouldja?”

You melt at the worry in his voice. Your neighborhood isn’t exactly the safest around, and even though you’re perfectly capable of breaking any assailants’ noses, his protectiveness is comforting. “Of course, Bucky.”

His breathing gets heavier as he bounds down the four flights of stairs. When he makes it to the back hallway, it evens back out. You tap your hip impatiently. So close…

“You know, this wouldn’t have happened at my place,” he tells you.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I’ll get you one day,” Bucky promises, and then he opens the door.

His mouth falls open as he takes you in. You bite your lip as his eyes rove over you. He swallows.

“What happened to your clothes?”

“Bumped into my neighbor,” you tell him. “Can I come in yet?”

Bucky shakes his head—in awe? disbelief?? who knows—and steps aside. You squeeze past him and sigh in relief at the warmth of the hallway.

The second the door shuts, Bucky’s hands are on your waist and his mouth catches yours. You hum happily and slide your hands up under his shirt.

Bucky yelps and jumps back. “Cold hands!”

“That’s what happens when you’re stuck outside waiting for your heroic boyfriend to come to the rescue.” You wrap your arms around his waist, this time safely over his shirt, and flutter your eyelashes at him. “Now how are you gonna warm me up? I’ve got twenty-eight minutes and nothing to do.”

Bucky’s low chuckle and darkening eyes are all the answer you need.

Later, when you’re wrapped in his arms, the cold all but forgotten and his eyes so tenderly fixed on yours, you think that maybe, _maybe_ , you can see yourself doing laundry at his place next time.


End file.
